


The Royal Treatment

by GothicPrincessWitch



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Kidnapping, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Feels, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Game, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Purple Hawke, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, but not too slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-02 23:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothicPrincessWitch/pseuds/GothicPrincessWitch
Summary: Sebastian has discovered that in order to assume the throne of Starkhaven, he must be married. Fenris is facing a resurgence of slave hunters determined to drag him back to Tevinter in chains, so he needs powerful allies and protection. The obvious solution, of course, is for the two of them to pretend to be married. Together in Starkhaven, the two friends find themselves drawn even closer to each other than ever before. Perhaps this fake relationship isn't so fake after all.





	1. Coronation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scatteringmyashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteringmyashes/gifts).



> This is inspired by a post on Tumblr written by scatteringmyashes. 
> 
> So much love and thanks to archdemonblood, The-Tevinter-Biscuit, sunlian, 9lunarseas6, hennigreygoose, and theoxfordcommando! 
> 
> Tag warning for minor gore in the opening, as well as warnings for referencing Fenris's past later on in the chapter.

Kirkwall is different now.

A rather obvious observation, of course, but Fenris is sharply reminded of how different the city feels as he makes his through Hightown just after dusk. It’s been seven months since the devastating explosion, but the rebuilding has barely begun. So much of Hightown looks and feels different and unfamiliar.

He still lives in Hightown, but it’s no longer his home. His mansion was destroyed from the explosion’s fallout, and he’s been staying at Hawke’s new residence (as have Sebastian and Isabela), but he doesn’t really belong there.

Fenris doesn’t really belong anywhere anymore.

And the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that Kirkwall has stopped feeling like his home.

It’s a disheartening realization, and it brings to mind questions which Fenris does not wish to consider, such as where else could he possibly live? What is he even doing anymore? Will he ever be able to find a place where he belongs again?

As always, however, he has no answers. He hates feeling lost like this. It reminds him too much of the early years of his life on the run. He was supposed to have moved on from that, to have moved forward.

But some things, it seems, will never change.

The scraping of a boot against stone is all the warning he has of the waiting ambush before a miasmic flask is lobbed at him. His vision clouds, his eyes, nose, and mouth stinging from the smoke, and he struggles for breath and fumbles for his sword hilt as the slavers jump him. Rough hands grab at him, at his neck and hair and arms and wrists, and he feels the cold bite of iron as they begin to secure him with chains.

“Hello, little slave,” a harsh voice hisses in his ear.

_No!_

With an angry cry, Fenris’s markings light up ablaze, and he twists sharply to break their hold on him, while his wrists phase through the shackles. The slavers are on him again immediately, but Fenris finally has his sword unsheathed and thrusts it forward, slicing through one of the slaver’s gorget to his throat. Hot blood sprays onto Fenris’s face. He rips out his sword and and slashes at the next slaver, but there are too many too close, the melee too constricted for him to have enough room to swing his sword. Soon the slavers are able to yank the blade from Fenris’s hands, disarming him.

But Fenris is never truly unarmed, and his lyrium glows more brightly as he reaches both arms out, phasing through chest plates and rib cages, to crush two hearts. One of the remaining two slavers whips a length of chain at his face like a flail, and only his lightning reflexes save Fenris, ducking out of the way. Catching the chain with his gauntleted hands on her next swing, Fenris tugs on it sharply, drawing the slaver to him, and activates his markings again to rip out her throat.

Then, Fenris pivots to face the final slaver, who’s drawn a mace and shield and advances. Fenris steps back quickly, dodging each blow since he has nothing to block with. Barely avoiding slipping on a puddle of blood, Fenris curses as he realizes he’s now backed against a wall, still too disoriented from the lingering effects of the miasma grenade to have been as observant of his surroundings as he should.

He will not allow himself to be taken. His life of freedom cannot end like this.

With a rallying cry, Fenris pushes off the stone wall and recklessly hurls himself toward the slaver, who hesitates in surprise at his charge but quickly recovers. A downswing of the mace grazes Fenris as he ducks and twists behind the slaver. The man has just enough time to bash his shield against Fenris’s face before Fenris crushes his heart, and they both fall to the ground together.

His vision swimming, Fenris lies there in the pooling blood, dazed and gasping for breath. He recognizes their armor and weapons as Tevinter make, and now that the battle is over and his determined veneer of calm has dissipated, terror washes over him. They came for him from Tevinter. Danarius is dead, but he’s still being hunted. And their weapons were blunt; they clearly wanted him alive.

But why? This was supposed to be over! The past was supposed to be behind him. Fenris is free and wants so very much to move forward, but how can he if they keep coming after him? How can he stop running if they will not let him go?

And he doesn’t even know who “they” are. Danarius’s heirs perhaps? Another magister wanting to claim Danarius’s research? It’s too late to question the slavers who attacked him, but Fenris does not regret killing them.

His vision is still blurry, tears stinging his eyes and imminent nausea causing him to sway, but Fenris forces himself to rise to his feet. Once again activating his markings, Fenris tears off the collar they’d managed to fasten around his throat, and he flings it at their corpses.

 _“Vishante kaffas,”_ he spits bitterly.

Fenris locates his sword but does not sheathe it. Instead he grips it tightly as he hurries away. His gaze darting to the shadows, he searches for any other waves of attack while he heads— no, not home. Home is gone. — to his current place of residence across Hightown.

He leaves a trail of bloody footprints upon the cobblestone streets.

=====

"Ha! One more for me!" shouts Hawke triumphantly, grinning at his deafeated foes. "We're keeping score, right?"

Across the table, Isabela sighs and drops her hand of cards. "How do you keep winning?" She groans. "I've been cheating all night, and you still win every time!"

Hawke shrugs innocently as he gathers up his winnings from Wicked Grace. "It's just luck. And skill," he replies smoothly. "Plus I'm a better cheat than you."

To his right, Varric laughs and stacks all the cards together, shuffling for a new round. "I'll say. You've bested me at cheating on every round so far," says Varric.

Sebastian shakes his head. "Am I the only one who's been playing fairly this whole time?" he asks in a faux-weary manner.

"Yeah."

"Yep."

"Pretty much."

Sebastian joins in the laughter with the rest of them.

Its important to all of them to be able to share these evenings of normalcy. So much of their lives has changed, particularly for Hawke as the new Viscount, dedicating most of his time to restoring order to the fallen city. What little spare time he has he spends sequestered in his current apartments at the temporary govenerment building while the Viscount's Keep and Amell Estate are being rebuilt. Spending time with his friends, even for something as simple as a night of Wicked Grace, restores a bit of balance to their lives, along with a small sense of peace.

This is especially important to Sebastian Vael, who is still mourning the second loss of his family, who lost his home and everything he had. He's been able to get through it so far with the support of his friends, especially Hawke and Fenris even more so. And he tries to distract himself with his preparations to retake Starkhaven, but those have been rather frustrating thus far.

"So Choir Boy," says Varric casually as he finishes shuffling and begins dealing cards for a new game, "what's this new development in your plans that I heard Daisy mention?"

Sebastian sighs, picking up his cards to inspect the hand. "It's more of an obstacle than a development," he replies.

"Don't keep up in suspense now," Hawke comments. He makes a face when he looks at his cards.

Meticulously organizing his cards by suit mainly as an excuse not to look at the others' expressions, Sebastian says, "It turns out my father had a stipulation put into law that if the line of succession were to fall to me, I must be married in order to assume the throne. He was that disapproving of my previous lifestyle."

It hurts that even after all these years, his father still found yet another way to lash out at him and punish him.

Isabela has a devious smile on her face. "If you'd be willing to bring back some of your 'previous lifestyle,' as you put it," she says with a wink, "then I'd be up for it."

"If you're that pressed for options that you're considering Rivaini here, then allow me to propose," Varric jokes. "Besides, Bianca would make a very pretty princess," he adds, patting the crossbow beside him fondly. Isabela giggles.

"Well now, I always did have a weakness for men with strong arms, so all things considered, I will be happy to grant you the honor of marrying me," says Hawke with a charming grin and a playful bow.

They all laugh again, but Sebastian's laughter is rather half-hearted. He knows their teasing proposals were well meant, intended to help him feel at ease, but this is problem he doesn't know how to solve, and that worries him.

The laughter and jokes are all cut off suddenly when the door opens and in walks Fenris, drenched in blood, with an injured head, sword in hand, and a haunted look in his eyes.

"Fenris!" Hawke drops his cards and runs to him. "You're hurt! What happened?"

Fenris flinches away when Hawke reaches out to inspect Hawke's injuries.

"Please don't touch me," says Fenris. Sebastian pulls out a chair for Fenris, who takes a seat wearily.

"Who do I have to kill for this?" asks Isabela with an edge to her voice.

Fenris shakes his head, his silver bangs hiding his eyes. "I killed them. All of these ones, at least. Imperial slavers. I'm being hunted again. It's only a matter of time before more come to Kirkwall."

"I am not going to let them take you," Hawke insists, his face contorting into the fierce scowl notorious for intimidating his enemies upon the battlefield.

And then, for the first time since before chaos took over their lives, a tiny sprig of hope unfurls within Sebastian's chest.

Of course...

"You promised to consider my offer of accompanying me to Starkhaven," Sebastian says. "Perhaps it would be more expedient to come with me as soon as possible."

Fenris turns to him with a thoughtful expression. "I'm listening."

"But what about-- Oh!" Hawke gasps, his eyes shining with glee, the utter opposite of his previous expression.

"Let us discuss this in private, my friend."

=====

Sebastian escorts Fenris to the latter's room within the Viscount's wing and persuades Fenris to let him tend to his injuries. Sebastian washes away the blood on Fenris's head and uses frostrock to calm the swelling where the slaver's shield struck Fenris. Then he explains his idea.

Fenris stares at Sebastian. "You're asking me to marry you?"

"Pretend," Sebastian clarifies. "We would only pretend to be wed, and it wouldn't be long term, just until I can have the law altered. In the meantime, however, you can get out of Kirkwall and would have the protection of being my consort, while I would be able to secure my throne."

Fenris blinks in disbelief. "But I'm an elf and a former slave. Surely I would not be an asset to you," he objects.

Momentarily setting down the frostrock-iced cloth he's pressed to Fenris's head, Sebastian takes Fenris's hand in his and says as earnestly as possible, "I don't want an asset. I want my friend. You are not something to be used. I want you to be safe, and if I can help you with that, then by Andraste's name that's what I'll do."

The corner of Fenris's mouth tilts upward into a tiny half-smile. "Then I shall agree to this."

Sebastian returns the smile with one of his own. "Thank you."

=====

Meanwhile, Hawke, Isabela, and Varric have continued playing Wicked Grace (after Isabela switched out half her hand for Sebastian's abandoned cards), exchanging cards and coins and knowing smiles.

Finally, after Hawke wins by cheating yet again, he says, "So, are we taking bets on how long it will take the two of them to get together?"

"Hmm." Isabela cocks her head as she considers this. "Ten sovereigns on two weeks after they arrive in Starkhaven. Those two have had it bad for each other for years."

"I'm going to say three months," Varric responds. "Sure, they care about each other, but the elf's got a lot of angst and spikes and emotional baggage. It won't be easy for him to open up. So three months. Wait, no, four. Four months."

"Yeah, see, I was thinking more like a few hours?" says Hawke with a shrug.

Isabela rolls her eyes. "You've got far too much faith in both of them, sweet thing."

Hawke sighs. "They both deserve some happiness."

"Be that as it may, you're forgetting a key detail here: all of us are idiots," says Varric. "All of us."

"But I--"

"Yes, you too, Hawke."

=====

The Gallows has always been a dismal place, but it appears especially so now with the remains of the former Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard adorning the courtyard. Fenris tries not to look at it as he meets Bethany and pecks a kiss on her cheek.

He could not possibly depart for Starkhaven without bidding farewell to her.

Bethany Hawke is the new First Enchanter of the remaining Circle mages, and she seems to Fenris to be much more at peace and happier than she used to. Fenris is very glad to see it.

He supposes that it must be considered quite a scandal among Kirkwall's elite that the new First Enchanter is the sister of the new Viscount (and the very same Viscount sleeping with the new Knight-Commander at that), but Hawke has never paid it any heed. Besides, Starkhaven politics must now occupy Fenris's attention more than Kirkwall politics.

"I'm going to miss you," says Bethany with a small, sad smile.

"I shall miss you as well," Fenris replies, his voice solemn. "Meeting you was an honor. You are the finest mage I've ever met, and I wish you well. Take care of yourself, and please look out for your brother. You know how he is."

"I do know," Bethany says with a laugh. "And I hope you and Sebastian have a very happy marriage together. I wish you all the best."

Face heating, Fenris quickly raises his voice in protest. "It's not like that! Sebastian and I are just friends."

"Oh, I thought that--"

"Just really good friends helping each other out."

"You two were always close, so I thought--"

"It's fine, but it's not--"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed--"

"Really, really good friends, that's all it is."

"Right. Of course."

"Right."

After the blabbering and stammering stops, both Bethany and Fenris are standing there, awkward and blushing. Fenris can't begin to understand why he feels so flustered, and once he recovers, he murmurs his goodbyes and departs.

He lifts a finger to his still-burning cheeks and wonders why he can't seem to stop blushing.

=====

The war to retake Starkhaven is longer than Sebastian would prefer, but still less time than he had anticipated. He's fortunate to be assisted by such valuable allies. The soldiers sent by Viscount Hawke and by King Alistair of Ferelden greatly bolster the ranks of soldiers he's mustered himself.

The true key to his victory, however, is his new general.

Fenris has proven himself to be a brilliant tactician and commander, and Sebastian finds himself even more impressed and awed by his friend than ever before. Between Sebastian's charisma and passion and Fenris's intelligence and sagacity, they quickly earn the loyalty and respect of the people of Starkhaven, and the city rallies on behalf of its rightful Prince, deposing Gorben Vael.

Yet as strenuous as the war was, arriving at the palace is the true trial for Sebastian.

This was the last place he saw his blood family, and this was the place they were all murdered.

And suddenly outside the gate Sebastian freezes. He can't bring himself to set foot inside because he's terrified of what he might see and what he might remember. Despite his best efforts he's trembling, and his breath catches in his chest.

But then Fenris takes his hand and squeezes it reassuringly, boundless concern shining in his green eyes. _(And how did Sebastian never notice just how stunningly beautiful Fenris's eyes are?)_ Sebastian feels the tension easing somewhat, the fear diminishing (though not vanishing altogether). It's easier, better, to do this with someone he cares about at his side.

Sebastian takes a moment to rest his forehead gently against Fenris's. The gesture feels soft and intimate, but they are pretending to be husbands, so it shouldn't appear too out of place.

"Thank you for being here," Sebastian whispers quietly enough that only Fenris can hear.

"You can do this," Fenris murmurs in an equally quiet manner. "I have faith in you."

Sebastian smiles gratefully and enters the palace with his hand firmly ensconced within Fenris's.

=====

After the lavish and ostentatious palaces of the Imperium, it surprises Fenris to see how comparatively plain the Starkhaven palace appears. The only ornamentations are banners with the Vael family crest. Yet somehow it doesn't feel unwelcoming, and Fenris thinks that he won't mind living here for a while. He's stayed in worse places, after all.

He's more concerned about Sebastian, who looks as though he's expecting to see a ghost around every corner, and perhaps he is. Fenris can't imagine how hard this must be for Sebastian to be back here, but he's glad that Sebastian doesn't have to go through this alone.

His thoughts are focused on Sebastian's well being as they are escorted through the palace corridors until they arrive at the royal chambers. That's when Fenris is the one to halt in his tracks.

The bed. There's only one bed.

But of course. They're supposed to be married. It's only natural they would sleep in the same bed. Objectively he knew this; he just hadn't actually thought about it until now.

It's fine. It'll be fine.

It isn't fine.

Fenris is frozen in place, his gaze locked upon the bed, everything else blurred away. It has been a decade since Fenris was last in a bed with someone, but nothing about his previous bed-sharing experiences, when he was expected to... entertain Danarius or one of his colleagues, is pleasant to recall.

And Sebastian is not Danarius, could never be Danarius, but nonetheless, Fenris does not know what it is exactly that Sebastian expects of him in this bed.

=====

Fenris tries not to think about it during Sebastian's coronation service and subsequent ball.

He has a place of honor here, both as the Prince's consort and as commander of Starkhaven's armies. Draped in green silks, with a wire-thin silver circlet upon his brow, Fenris appears dignified and formidable at Sebastian's side. It is uncomfortable, to say the least, to be openly ogled by the Starkhaven nobles and other foreign dignitaries, but Fenris calms himself by with the reminder that he is not here as a trophy on display, that Sebastian would never treat him as such.

Sebastian looks very regal tonight, impeccably dressed in immaculate white and shimmering gold. He's effortlessly charming and polite and genial, and he's winning over the nobles easily with his agreeable words and warm smile. He looks every bit like a prince, and Fenris is happy to be here for his friend on this evening of triumph, truly.

But thoughts of the bed keep looming at the back of Fenris's mind, overshadowing names he should be remembering, conversations and details he should be paying attention to... A tremor runs through his hands, and Sebastian's bright blue eyes cloud with worry.

"Is something wrong?" Sebastian asks him.

"It's nothing," Fenris lies.

But Sebastian knows him well and isn't convinced.

Once they retire to their bedchamber after the ball, Sebastian turns to him and says, "Please tell me what's wrong."

Fenris knows his face is ashen, but he answers truthfully. "I can't... I can't do anything in that bed with you. I won't."

Blue eyes flicking to the bed and back, Sebastian's face creases into a frown. "Fenris, I would never ask you to do something you're not comfortable with."

"I know. I know you wouldn't. And I trust you, I do. But I need that to be clear." Fenris hates feeling vulnerable and self-conscious like this. He hates the way his accursed past still affects him in ways like this. Yet he knows, deep down he knows, that Sebastian does not think any less of him for it.

"Would you prefer it if I slept on the floor?" Sebastian's offer is candid and genuine.

Fenris blinks in surprise. "No, I couldn't make you do that."

"If you're certain."

After changing to his nightclothes and climbing under the blankets, Fenris's body is stiff as a board, and he silently curses his irrational fears.

"May I have permission to hug you?" Sebastian requests, and Fenris consents with a nod. Sebastian's strong, lean arms carefully envelop Fenris, holding him close.

"Fenris, I care very much about you. You're my-- my friend. My very dear friend. And if there's anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or unhappy, I want you to be able to tell me. You are not alone in this," says Sebastian, his voice tender and gentle.

Fenris relaxes into Sebastian's arms, just a little. "I appreciate that, and you are not alone either."

"I know. I'm very lucky to have you."

Sebastian bids him good night and soon falls asleep while still holding him. Fenris allows himself to remain in Sebastian's arms just a moment longer, and he breathes in Sebastian's lovely scent to ground himself. Back in Kirkwall, Sebastian used to always smell of incense from the Chantry, but that scent has long since faded. Now he smells different and nice and pleasing, and it feels like... like... _Fasta vass,_ what good are words if Fenris can't find the right descriptors?

 _Like home,_ come the words unbidden to his mind just before he falls asleep.


	2. Practice Makes Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely kudos and comments so far! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as the last.
> 
> Tag warnings on this chapter for mentions of racism and homophobia.

_Elf,_

  
_How's life in Starkhaven? I hope your busy life as Prince Consort still gives you enough time to keep up with your necessary brooding. Just wanted to give you a heads up: Aveline caught another group of Tevinter bounty hunters sniffing around Hightown looking for you. Be careful, alright? And say hello to Choir Boy for me._

 _Sincerely,_  
_Varric._  
  
_Hi Fenris, this is Hawke. I'm too ~~busy~~ lazy to write my own letter, so I'm attaching this to the end of Varric's. I miss you both a lot. Kirkwall's much more boring without you, but I hope things are well in Starkhaven. Also I hope the two of you are enjoying married life (wink wink!). _

_Your good friend,_  
_Hawke_  
  
=====  
  
In the morning, Sebastian wakes up to find Fenris pressed close against him, close enough to be practically spooning him. It's rather nice, to be quite honest. Sebastian moves to climb out of bed, wanting to get an early start to the day, but Fenris automatically moves closer, seeking warmth. He wonders idly if it's the lyrium which causes Fenris's body temperature to be lower than normal as he rolls over to face his pretend husband.  
  
Fenris looks so much softer when he's asleep, so much more peaceful, less haunted, less careworn, with his hair fluffy and sticking out in places, and many of the lines on his face smoothed away. It melts Sebastian's heart to see his dearest friend in this unusual yet much deserved state of serenity, and he wishes that Fenris could set aside his burdens as easily when awake.  
  
Sebastian reaches to brush a strand of silver hair out of Fenris's eyes but then stops himself, feeling suddenly like a trespasser seeing this vulnerable part of Fenris which Fenris isn't ready to show him.  
  
He withdraws his hand and carefully gets out of bed, only to tuck the blankets more closely around Fenris, and he adds another blanket to keep Fenris warm. Then he backs away as quietly as possible, letting Fenris sleep.  
  
=====  
  
He remembers what a devout and faithful man his grandfather was. Righteous, dutiful, and equally devoted to serving the Maker as he was to serving his people, Sebastian once yearned to be just like him.  
  
But Sebastian wasn't wanted. He was the superfluous third son, the unnecessary distraction in his brothers' way. So he gave up trying to be better than he felt he was capable of, which wasn't much, and he gave himself over to the pleasures of the flesh, whatever frivolous diversions he could use to try to fill the void inside him. Because he could never be good, let alone good enough, could never be what was expected of him, could never be who his parents wanted him to be.  
  
Sebastian has grown up quite a lot since then. He's stopped defining himself by what he lacks; he's had to, for the weight of all he's lost is staggering. Perhaps he still isn't worthy of the throne (regardless of how much Fenris has assured him otherwise), but the important thing is that he strives to be worthy. He's trying hard to be a good man, and maybe someday he'll finally be the the kind of ruler and the kind of person his grandfather would be proud of.  
  
His grandfather attended Chantry services every single morning before beginning the day's work, and that is a tradition Sebastian would like to continue for himself, which is why he is up at dawn and exiting the palace to go to the chantry. The streets are quiet in this early hour as he walks alone, unescorted and free from all the formal pomp and ceremony.  
  
The heavy gilded doors of the temple are just as he remembers them, emblazoned with the Andrastrian sunburst, and Sebastian pauses with his fingers on the handle. He hasn't set foot inside a Chantry building since-- since--  
  
Since the morning of that damned explosion in Kirkwall.  
  
Suddenly Sebastian cannot breathe, and he cannot go inside because _what if this one explodes as well? Everything crumbling and burning up in a flash of red light and magic, everyone screaming, Elthina's clothes and hair catching fire as her skin blackens and then melts away, everything being incinerated until there's nothing left, nothing but pieces and ashes, and Sebastian will burn away with them this time like he was supposed to burn with all the others back in Kirkwall--_  
  
Gasping for breath, Sebastian yanks his hand off the door and stumbles backward down the steps. He forces himself to see the Starkhaven temple before him and not Kirkwall's cathedral in flames.  
  
"Your Royal Highness?" the Templar guard calls to him, her eyes wide with fear.  
  
Still struggling to breathe, Sebastian turns away and collapses to a seat upon the stone steps, and he buries his face in his hands. The Templar says something to him, but he can't make out the words over the hammering of his racing pulse echoing in his head.  
  
Is there nowhere in Starkhaven he can find solace? Is there nowhere free from ghosts and pain? Is he doomed to panic attacks like this unceasingly?  
  
He was a fool to think he could ever be more than a broken man.  
  
But then he thinks of Fenris, who was surely broken far worse than he, strong, steadfast, beautiful Fenris with his unwavering spirit of defiance, who's gathered all the broken pieces of himself and built himself anew, despite all the hardship, despite being relentlessly hunted, despite everything. If Sebastian were to have even a fraction of Fenris's strength and resolve, then he could rebuild himself as well.  
  
And he's not alone, no matter how desolate he feels.  
  
Folding his hands together, Sebastian prays, murmuring all but silently, "Blessed Andraste, Our Lady of Mercy, grant me the courage to overcome these fears and trials. Grant me the wisdom and compassion to be the Prince Starkhaven needs. Forgive me my weakness, and give me the grace to endure the hardships of today. Finally, Our Lady, watch over Fenris and bring him the happiness he's long deserved. In the Maker's Name I pray, so let it be."  
  
When he finally opens his eyes, he discovers the Templar kneeling before him, her face drawn with concern.  
  
"I've sent for a healer if Your Highness is unwell," she's saying to him.  
  
"Ah, thank you kindly, but I'll be fine," he manages to reply, although his voice quavers.  
  
"Shall I help you inside, then, Ser?"  
  
No. No, he can't go in there. Not today, at least.  
  
He gives her a flash of his gentle, charming smile and says, "I think I'll just stay here for now, if you don't mind."  
  
"As you like, Your Highness."  
  
Sebastian remains seated upon the steps and listens to what faint echoes of the morning service he can hear from outside. When at last he rises and returns to the palace, he does not look back at the temple.  
  
=====  
  
Sebastian is absent at breakfast that morning. Fenris stares at the Prince's empty chair before returning his gaze to the the plate before him. He wrinkles his nose in distaste at the pinkish-orange lox and contents himself with nibbling the fruit on the side.  
  
All the while he tries to ignore the way everyone is staring at him. Without the Prince Regnant present, the nobles seem to feel more free to gawk openly at the Prince Consort. Fenris keeps his eyes on his plate.  
  
There are whispers about him as well. Away from Sebastian, the nobles are brazen enough to gossip, and Fenris can hear snatches of conversation while he eats and sips his too bitter coffee. The Prince's absence is a quite a source of speculation, apparently. Some believe that Sebastian has already returned to his old philandering ways, that he's left his marriage bed and husband cold in order to become reacquainted with the city's brothels.  
  
The whispers and rumors continue throughout the week, whenever Sebastian is not beside Fenris. They theorize that the Prince only married him to take the throne and then to retain his services as a general. They postulate that perhaps, with this seeming distance between the Princes so soon after the coronation, the marriage might be annulled in favor of a more suitable match -- one which would actually result in producing an heir to the throne.  
  
Sometimes Fenris overhears the words _"knife-eared former slave"_ being bandied about.  
  
Gorben Vael may have been too easily manipulated, the gossip continues, but at least he didn't dally perfunctorily with someone so beneath him.  
  
The words hurt, of course, but Fenris makes a point of refusing to acknowledge them. He recognizes that the nobles feel threatened by Sebastian. The situation is very different from Kirkwall, where Hawke is devious and cocky enough to fit in among the nobility, to be one of them. Here, Sebastian, with his straightforward, unconniving, altruistic manner, is very much a Prince of the common populace instead, something the nobles seem to consider demeaning -- particularly with someone they deem lower than a peasant as the royal consort.  
  
They view Fenris as an obstacle to controlling Sebastian, and the very notion that they might attempt to use him against Sebastian makes Fenris's stomach churn.  
  
As much as Fenris doesn't wish to dignify this gossip with a response, something must be done.  
  
=====  
  
At the end of the week, Sebastian finds Fenris in a state of solemn contemplation in their room. When Sebastian greets him, Fenris looks up at him and then quickly looks away, cheeks coloring. Sebastian takes a seat on the bed beside him, close enough to be intimate but not so close as to overtake Fenris's personal space.  
  
Fenris folds his hands upon his lap and says, "I've been thinking..."  
  
"Do tell. I always want to hear your thoughts," Sebastian responds encouragingly. Being with Fenris like this -- _as friends, of course, just as friends_ \-- and being able to speak freely and candidly to each other has become immensely valuable to Sebastian.  
  
Fenris's mouth creases into a frown. "I've been overhearing things," he begins and hesitates before continuing. "Not everyone is convinced of our marriage. Seneschal Granger in particular has spoken of wanting me replaced with someone more befitting your rank. He is not the only one."  
  
Sebastian takes in the words, Fenris's clear discomfort, and the tense rigidity of his posture, and his heart sinks. Has Fenris become uncomfortable enough to want to leave? Is Sebastian going to be left alone to flounder in this mess and inevitably falter? Is Fenris hurt? How will Sebastian possibly get through this on his own?  
  
"Oh..." is the only thing he's able to say.  
  
"I believe it would be best if, in order to persuade them, we were to show affection more publicly," Fenris goes on, blushing further.  
  
Sinking heart suddenly soaring, relief surges through Sebastian. Fenris isn't leaving him! Sebastian is so pleased by this that he can't help but think of how adorable Fenris looks with his face and pointed ears tinged pink, and he's almost overcome by the impulsive desire to kiss Fenris's adorable blushing cheeks.  
  
Quickly Sebastian shoves that thought aside and nods his head, saying, "I think that would be a wise course of action."  
  
But Fenris is still embarrassed and still cannot bring himself to meet Sebastian's gaze as he continues, rather shyly, "To that end, I think you and I should practice."  
  
"Practice?" Sebastian's heart skips a beat. "You mean practice kissing?"  
  
A nod. "Strictly in order to maintain appearances." Finally Fenris looks up at Sebastian, and his green eyes are soft and lovely, as is his small, self-conscious smile. "That is, if you would be amenable to it."  
  
Sebastian cannot currently think of a single reason why he would refuse, and he returns Fenris's smile with a grin of his own. "I would be very amenable," he says, his gaze locked on Fenris's lips. "Perhaps we can begin practicing now?"  
  
"I'd like that." Fenris scoots closer to him on their bed, and they lean toward each other, closing the remaining distance between their lips.  
  
This first kiss is closed-mouthed. It belies both of their extensive experiences rendering them well versed in kissing, but neither wishes to think of those parts of their pasts right now. It's a gentle kiss, tender and delicate, as if this unspoken fragile thing between them might crumble...  
  
Which is a silly notion, because what they share is a very sturdy and supportive friendship that surely could not be affected by this kiss! _(Never mind that Sebastian's spine tingles or that, when they break apart, Fenris has stars in his eyes.)_  
  
But neither of them are made of glass, so this next kiss is less delicate but no less sweet, Fenris closing his eyes and murmuring a soft, contented moan, while Sebastian opens his mouth for Fenris to deepen the kiss.  
  
It's practice; that's all.  
  
They continue their practice session for some time, and when they decide to retire to bed, Fenris casually suggests that they practice cuddling as well.  
  
Solely for keeping up appearances, of course.  
  
=====  
  
Over the course of the following weeks, they carry out Fenris's plan to be appear more publicly affectionate and together. Fenris clings to Sebastian's arm, and sometimes Sebastian wraps an arm around Fenris's waist or draws Fenris's hand to his lips for a kiss. At other times Sebastian presses his lips to Fenris's cheek or brow, and occasionally they exchange mostly chaste kisses upon the mouth.  
  
Fenris is certain they've succeeded in convincing the entirety of the Court that their marriage is one of love rather than feigned convenience. Sebastian is very good at playing the part of the ardent, doting lover -- so good, in fact, that sometimes Fenris has to remind himself that Sebastian's adoring expression is nothing more than play-acting, that the fluttering within his chest is wholly unnecessary.  
  
It's easy to fall for Sebastian, which the people of Starkhaven continue to do. As a ruler he's wise and just and generous, especially toward the peasantry. Although Starkhaven has no alienage, the city has its fair share of elven denizens, and Sebastian does his best to ensure they are treated well.  
  
The people of Starkhaven love their Prince even more now than when they rallied under his banner, and Fenris is immensely proud of him. Sebastian inspires them greatly, more than merely inspiring their loyalty.  
  
He inspires Fenris as well.  
  
Surely that's the real reason Fenris's heart keeps fluttering.  
  
=====  
Sebastian continues to go to the chantry each morning, and he continues to stay on the stone steps, never entering the temple. He knows the Chant of Light well enough to recite it by heart and the hymns well enough to sing them, but he cannot go inside for the services.  
  
He just can't.  
  
The priests have started propping open the stained glass windows so that their voices will carry outside to reach him, and he's grateful for that, truly, but...  
  
But he still expects to hear Elthina's voice raised in the Chant. It's a relief that he never hears her, but it also hurts that he'll never hear her sing the Chant again. Sometimes it hurts so much that he can't breathe.  
  
One morning, Sebastian is interrupted from the trials of trying to ignore this piercing pain while breathlessly attempting to recite the Canticle of Benedictions, by the sound of approaching footsteps. He raises his bowed head to discover Fenris at the foot of the stairs. White gems adorning his silver hair, Fenris is bathed in the early morning light, and he's watching Sebastian with fondness in his eyes and a gentle smile upon his lips.  
  
He looks like an Angel of Mercy sent by Andraste to bring Sebastian solace as he struggles not to fall apart. It's the most beautiful sight Sebastian has ever laid eyes on.  
  
Wordlessly Fenris ascends the steps and sits down beside him. Curling into his side, Fenris lays his head upon Sebastian's shoulder. For a moment Sebastian's vision blurs from tears before he blinks them away, and then he embraces Fenris and rests his own head atop Fenris's.  
  
Having someone to hold on to, having the person who matters the very most to him be here for him, it means everything to Sebastian.  
  
=====  
  
The next day, Sebastian is preparing for a meeting with the Orlesian ambassador, when Fenris comes to him and draws him away.  
  
"I have something for you," says Fenris with a shy, almost nervous smile.  
  
Intrigued, Sebastian follows as Fenris leads him by the hand to a room near the royal suite.  
  
"Forgive me if this is presumptuous, but I wanted to provide you with a place you might feel more comfortable," Fenris explains while ushering him inside.  
  
The room has been converted into a small chapel. There's an altar table holding a miniature golden statue of Andraste with her hand raised in benediction, flanked by red pillar candles and a dish of incense. It's simple, but he doesn't need anything ostentatious just to pray.  
  
And he doesn't feel panicked to be here.  
  
Sebastian is suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. Fenris did this for him so that he wouldn't have to nearly break down upon the chantry steps on the harder days. Fenris did this for him in order to take care of him and give him support. Sebastian is overcome, and spontaneously he turns to Fenris and kisses him.  
  
Fenris gasps, and Sebastian pulls away.  
  
"That-- that was just more practice," Sebastian stammers, blushing, pulse racing.  
  
Fenris is blushing as well, and he laughs, a nervous chuckle that's almost a giggle. It's adorable. "We could use more practice," he says, before brushing his lips against Sebastian's.  
  
Sebastian is just about to kiss him again when they are interrupted by the arrival of a messenger.  
  
"Your Royal Highness, the Orlesian ambassador has arrived."  
  
Awkwardly giggling once more, Fenris takes his husband's arm -- _his pretend husband's arm, that is_ \-- and accompanies him to the council chamber where the meeting is to take place, but while Sebastian enters, another messenger draws Fenris aside.  
  
"A letter's arrived for you, Commander," the servant announces.  
  
Fenris recognizes the seal as Varric's when he reaches out to take the letter, but he's halted by the sound of the ambassador's voice greeting Sebastian in Orlesian. If there's one thing Fenris knows well, it's the sounds of languages. He learned every language he speaks entirely by ear, after all, and Fenris recognizes that the ambassador's accent is not pure Orlesian, but Antivan imitating Orlesian. Fenris's heart stops as he realizes the type of Antivan who would be here under false pretenses.  
  
_A Crow._  
  
Lyrium aglow, Fenris bursts into the council chamber. Immediately one of the "Orlesian" guards tries to seize him, but Fenris phases through the guard's grasp while simultaneously swerving to avoid the oncoming stab of another guard's blade. Fenris sidesteps them both, trying to get closer to Sebastian, the only thought in his head that of protecting Sebastian, and he pivots.  
  
He turns just in time to see a dagger sink into Sebastian's side.


End file.
